The House Championship: The Underhand Way
by Bobbi
Summary: MWPP make a bet with the Slytherins over who will win the House Championship. As each side gets more determined, rules and morals are discarded completely... Ch 4 - the quidditch match!
1. The Throwing of the Gauntlet

Nobody in this is mine, it's all J.K. Rowling's.

MWPP make a bet with Snape, Lucius, Crabbe and Goyle about which house is going to win the House Championship. Not unusual, one might think, but the stakes are high, and they resort to more and more drastic measures to win . . .

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

"Any minute now," Sirius hissed gleefully. He ducked down, trying to hide behind the platters of food covering the Gryffindor table. His eyes were fixed upon the Slytherin table, one Severus Snape in particular.

The three other boys sitting with him exchanged wary glances. Experience told them that when Sirius got that particular manic look in his eyes the Slytherins should be afraid...very afraid...

Sirius had different varieties on the "manic" look. There was the "I've just pulled an absolute _beauty_ of a prank" look, the "I've just thought of an absolute _beauty_ of a prank" look or the "I'm busy pulling an absolute _beauty_ of a prank" look. The one spread over his face at that particular moment was Variation No. 1.

"What did you do, Sirius?" asked James suspiciously. "Or would I be happier not knowing?"

"Just wait and see..." Sirius breathed, hunching down even more, so that all that could be seen were a pair of mischievous blue eyes and a mop of black hair.

James, Remus and Peter tried to discreetly keep an eye on the Slytherins. This proved difficult because James and Remus were facing away from them. Peter didn't appear particularly concerned with subtlety and was openly gawking. "What's going to happen?" he asked loudly, practically leaping out of his chair, only to be pulled back down by Sirius.

The four watched (Remus and James using their as-of-yet-empty plates as makeshift mirrors) for a while. "You know," said Remus eventually, "as fascinating a species as Snape and Malfoy are, they're making me less and less hungry. Are you sure whatever you did worked?" 

He got an answer almost immediately. The four boys watched as Snape, who talking to Lucius Malfoy, popped a chunk of beef into his mouth. As he chewed, his face adorned a strange expression. He frowned and swallowed. Then, as they watched, he spoke again. This time, not only was his voice several octaves higher than normal, thus drawing the attention of many students at the other tables, but it was gurgling, as though he were under water, and large pink and lavender bubbles were streaming out of his mouth.

Those in the room who could see and hear him burst out laughing. Those who couldn't began craning over in their seats to see the source of the bubbles and the cause of the laughter. Remus and James abandoned their plate-mirrors with two loud clatters and whirled round in their seats, laughing loudly. Sirius was cackling even more loudly, banging on the table.

"BLACK!" squealed Snape operatically, a flurry of highly threatening pink and lavender bubbles floating across the room. He looked more than a bit embarrassed at the high-pitched girlish soprano voice that emerged.

"What's the matter, Snapey?" called Sirius between cackles. "Did someone give you a good, swift kick in the--"

"Mr. Black!"

Sirius cringed. It was McGonagall. "Do you four have anything to do with this?" she asked, walking quickly over and casting a suspicious glare over the grinning Marauders.

"No, Professor," said Sirius swiftly. He was trying to sound scandalised, but the air of sheepish guilt surrounding him made doubtful his tone of voice. "I...was merely commenting on Snape's newly acquired vocal skills..."

"Professor--" bubbled Snape squeakily, then cut himself off abruptly when he realised that speech was just resulting in gales of laughter from the other students in the Hall, all of whom were now watching with interest.

Malfoy shot an evil look at the Gryffindor table. "Professor, I think it's fairly obvious who the culprits are. The only people with the mental inferiority to come up with something so pathetic are in Gryffindor house, and I don't think it will be too difficult to determine _which _Gryffindors, either."

"Eh...yeah," contributed Goyle. Crabbe nodded vigorously.

"And what's more," continued Malfoy, a hint of whininess entering his voice, "I just _know_ it was them who enchanted my broomstick last week. Every time I tried to mount it it jerked two feet to the right. AND there was the--"

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," interrupted Professor McGonagall. She walked over and pointed her wand at Snape. "Finite incantatum."

Snape burped loudly and, upon discovering that his vocal chords were back to normal, launched into a furious tirade in which the words "expelled" and "revenge" were prominent.

When the rant dulled into mutinous muttering, everyone went back to their meals, satisfied that the show was over. McGonagall stomped back over to the Marauders. She looked down at them, her patented disapproving look firmly in place. "I had better not find out that that little incident was your doing," she snapped. "Don't think I, or Dumbledore, for that matter, have forgotten about the lion costume incident."

"You see, the thing is, Professor--" began Sirius.

James interrupted. "Of course not, Professor," he said, shooting a glare at Sirius. "We learned our lesson..."

"We saw the error of our ways," added Remus, nodding.

"We realised that we were mistaken," agreed Peter solemnly.

"We were misguided to think that pranking the Slytherins was appropriate use of our time and resources," concluded Sirius.

"Resources?" asked McGonagall sharply.

"Er...you know, our wands and stuff..."

To the boys' relief, McGonagall spared them one last glare, a haughty sniff, and went back up to the teachers' table.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

The rest of the meal passed with no further incident. As the Marauders walked out into the Entrance Hall, Snape, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle stopped them before they could head towards Gryffindor Tower.

"I _know_ that that _highly_ amusing little joke was you four," hissed Snape. "Even if McGonagall refuses to punish her precious Gryffindors, don't think we won't."

"Oh, really?" asked Sirius, a mocking gleam in his eyes. "Well, we're quaking, Snapey, we're quaking."

"Really," replied Snape menacingly.

"I think, Snapey, that you're just jealous."

"Of _you_?" asked Snape incredulously, black eyes flashing.

"Yep," answered Remus with a big smile. "After all, we're the better house, aren't we? It's natural for you to be bitter."

Malfoy snorted, eyes narrowed. "Maybe, if you think a house full of dirty mudbloods and muggle-lovers could be considered anything other than disgusting. And, as everyone knows, no self respecting pureblood wizard would 

want to be seen dead cavorting with that sort of filth."

Six young wizards drew their wands at that comment. Two belatedly flexed their muscles. "So, you think the house for slimy unwashed gits like you two and thick-as-a-plank morons like dumb and dumber over there is better than _Gryffindor_ house?" asked James disbelievingly. "I...think...not."

"Then what do you say we make a little bet?" asked Lucius smarmily.

"With _you_? As if we would trust you," snapped Sirius.

"What kind of bet?" Remus asked.

"Well, if we win the...sorry, _when_ we win the House Championship, you four have to get up in the Great Hall, in front of everyone, and talk for ten minutes about how Slytherin house is the best house and why Gryffindor is the house in which fools and mudbloods like yourselves get landed. And I want you to talk about how _deserving_ Slytherin is of winning..."

"Wearing Slytherin green," added Snape.

"Yes," agreed Malfoy. "We'd make you wear Slytherin robes, but we don't want you filthy Gryffindors soiling them."

James, Remus and Peter grabbed onto the back of Sirius' robes before he could launch himself at Malfoy. "I wouldn't worry, Malfoy," said James casually, "you wouldn't get any of us anywhere near your robes. And if we win...?"

"We'll do the same," smirked Snape. He and Malfoy exchanged satisfied looks.

"Hang on, hang on..." said Remus. "We aren't going to fall for that."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really, Lupin? For what, exactly?"

"You're going to get up and talk about _Gryffindor_, not Slytherin," said Peter. "Before you get any ideas."

"Well, well, well," Malfoy said, casting a superior look over the Marauders. "I must admit, I'm surprised _you_ noticed that, Pettigrew." Peter flushed slightly. "So do we have a deal, then?"

"Yeah, okay," Sirius agreed.

The two parties eyed each other in distaste for a moment before decided that they weren't going to deign to shake hands.

"Oh, and Potter," said Snape with a malicious look at James, "I'm particularly looking forward to seeing the look on the face of that ugly red-headed mudblood of yours when you--"

James went red with rage. Curses flew. By the time McGonagall and Professor Green, the head of Slytherin house and herbology professor, came charging through the crowd that had accumulated at yet another Gryffindor-Slytherin spat, there were boils, horns, tentacles, various bright colours of hair and once case of twitchy ears to be reversed.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

One trip to the hospital wing and a long lecture about duelling in corridors later, the Marauders were back in their common room.

James was still fuming. "I should have AK-ed him right there and then," he stormed, punching a pillow.

"Don't worry 'bout it, Jamesy-boy," said Sirius amiably, draping an arm casually over his shoulder. "We'll be the ones laughing when they're giving their little 'I love Gryffindor' speech at the end of the year."

"Yeah," said Remus, laughing. "I can just see Snape, looking all bitter and twisted in a nice set of bright red robes, proclaiming his love for Gryffindor house..."

That finally elicited a smile from James. "Should be interesting," he agreed.

"Should be very interesting indeed..."


	2. The Potions Incident

Once again, all here belong to J.K. Rowling, not me.

The next morning, Saturday, found the four Gryffindor boys sitting in their common room, discussing House Championship-winning tactics.

"Right. We know that the Slytherins will resort to any means to win. They're slimy, sneaky, underhand gits. They'll probably use the Imperius on us or something, make us throw food at McGonagall at mealtimes ..." James was saying, staring into the fire.

"Well, they probably wouldn't go _that_ far, but we're going to have to watch ourselves. I mean, why were they put in Slytherin in the first place?" said Remus, who was lounging on the chair across from him.

Peter spoke up from his place on the rug by the fire. "I agree. We'll play fair at first, but the first sign of anything underhand, we're just going to have to lower ourselves to their level."

Sirius was marching back and forth in front of them. He stopped abruptly and turned to face his friends like a General planning a military operation. "Right, men," he barked. "We need a battle plan. We have to win! It's a fight to the death. I will _die_ before I'll be seen in green robes!" He punched a fist into his other hand furiously.

"Come on, Greasy-Locks and the Three Fools aren't anything we can't handle ..." said James with a cocky grin.

"The enemy could be plotting as we speak!" shouted Sirius, sounding slightly hysterical.

The other three exchanged alarmed looks. "Sirius, we can't do anything, you know, illegal--" Remus began.

"I knew this would happen," Sirius raged, resuming his pacing.

"You knew what would happen?" asked James. "Sit down!"

"I think that trench you're wearing in the carpet is taking things a little _too_ far," added Remus.

Sirius glowered and threw himself unceremoniously down into an empty chair, muttering mutinously.

"Anyway," said James. "They haven't a hope in hell of winning, because, although we're drawing on points now, we have quidditch to keep us in the lead. And let's face it, they have no chance of beating us at _that_."

Sirius catapulted out of his chair. "AHA! They're going to sabotage the team's brooms! Or the balls! Or ... _that's it_! They're going to sabotage ..." he paused here for dramatic effect, looking around ominously, "the _captain_." Here he fixed James with a piercing glare.

James rolled his eyes. "Even they aren't stupid enough to do something like that," he said. "It'd be obvious who it was, especially if they tried to curse me."

"No! No, no, no! They would! Snape would!" Sirius shouted, gesturing madly at James, arms flailing. "We're going to have to arrange twenty-four hour protection for you. We'll oversee your practice sessions ..." he began stalking back and forth over the rug again, rubbing his hands together gleefully. "Ha! Thinks he can fool us ... plotting to sabotage the Gryffindor captain ... grumble ... I've got _his_ number ... I'll break that immense nose ... git ... mumblegrumble ..."

James sighed loudly. "Si ..."

Sirius stopped rubbing his hands together. He shook his head sorrowfully and looked at James with an expression of sadness and compassion, as though he were about to tell James he had just a few hours left to live. "Don't worry about it, Prongs. We'll sort out Snape. Won't we, Moony?"

Remus looked up to see Sirius towering over him and nodded vigorously. "Oh ... yeah."

"Wormy?"

"Er ..."

"See?! We'll put Snapey under surveillance. Ha!" With that last outburst he gave James a reassuring pat on the shoulder and flopped back down into the empty seat.

There were a few moments of contemplative silence. Sirius was contemplating Snape's stupidity at thinking up such an _obvious_ plan. The other three were contemplating whether to mention to Sirius that he had just made up that whole scenario in his head.

All three decided against it.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

On Monday morning in the Great Hall, Sirius was no calmer. It was now firmly implanted in his brain that the Slytherins, in order to prevent Gryffindor winning points through Quidditch, were going to attack James, the Gryffindor captain. He therefore spent the entire time using his cutlery as a mirror so he could see what the Slytherins were up to, and kept up a running commentary on their actions while the others ate. "Snape's taking a mouthful of porridge ... swallowed it ... he's going for another one...swallowed that one, too ... oooh, he's talking to Malfoy ..."

"Si, are you going to do this at every meal?" Remus asked tiredly. Sirius had kept them up most of the night preparing for the 'imminent attack' on James.

"What are they discussing, I wonder ..." continued Sirius, ignoring Remus completely. "Could it be a nefarious plot to put James out of commission? _He's going for his wand_! _Action stations_!"

The other three, having been put on edge by Sirius' close monitoring of Snape's actions, automatically dove under the table, amid loud cries of "What the hell are you doing?" and "You'd better get your hand away from there, Pettigrew". It was extremely cramped. Sirius joined them, seconds later, and peered through the gap between the table and chair like a soldier in the wilderness spying on the enemy.

"Ow!" yelped James. "My _hand_!"

"Sorry, Prongs," apologised Peter. "Can you see, Sirius? Did he try to hex us?"

"Oh. Er ... no ..." said Sirius, sounding somewhat sheepish. "He was just ... scratching. Ugh!"

"Oh, for ..." James muttered and began scrambling back up to his seat.

Once the four of them were once again eating civilly, James lost his patience and grabbed Sirius' knife from him. "Give it a rest, Padfoot."

"What are you doing?" demanded Sirius loudly. "He could have his wand on us, and we'd never know! We could be caught _off-guard_!"

"Remus and Peter are both facing towards the Slytherin table," James answered matter-of-factly. "If it looks like Snape and his cronies are going to launch an attack, I'm sure they'll be able to see it coming. _I_ want to finish my breakfast in peace, with no more death-defying leaps to the floor."

"It looks to me like he's doing nothing more than just eating his breakfast," Remus offered. Sirius answered that with a scowl and huffily began to eat.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

"Okay, men. We know the deal. You have the dungbombs, Pete?"

"Check."

"Moony, you have the Filibuster Fireworks?"

"Check."

"Excellent. But only if the Slytherins get nasty. Okay? Only if they try something. It's a defence mechanism. _Only if they do something first_. We can't afford to lose any points. And you, Prongsy-boy, just you concentrate on not being hexed."

"For Merlin's sake--" James was cut off as Professor Actaea swept past them into the potions classroom with a sharp "Hurry up, boys."

Sirius frog-marched James into the room, glaring viciously at the Slytherins already in there, as though daring them to try anything. He pushed James into a seat between Remus and him. Peter sat on Sirius' other side.

"Good morning, class," scowled Professor Actaea, as though the thought of a 'good' morning was as attractive to her as the thought of Snape naked was to Sirius. She was fairly new, so had no preferences as far as houses went, but instead hated everyone equally. 

She spent the first ten minutes explained how they were going to make shrinking potions. "Any horse-play," she concluded, "and there will be detentions and loss of Hogsmeade privileges."

The class set to work.

Sirius shared a cauldron with Peter. They were both quite adept at potions and finished theirs quite quickly. Remus and James, on the other hand, were seemingly unable to even cut up the ingredients correctly, so bad were they both at the subject. Sirius and Peter helped them when Actaea disappeared into her store cupboard, because, as Sirius so frantically pointed out, Actaea would almost certainly take points from Gryffindor if the potions weren't finished. 

"All done," James said cheerfully, as he dropped the last handful of lacewings into the cauldron. "No reason for Actaea to want to--"

BANG! Someone's cauldron had exploded. The boys, stunned, looked around. Sirius burst out laughing. "Look! Look! It was Snape! Snape's cauldron actually exploded! Look at the height of him!" They all dissolved into laughter. Snape was now approximately three feet tall, but his nose was the same size as ever, taking up practically his whole face. He wasn't looking angry or embarrassed, as one might have expected, however. Instead he was looking extremely pleased with himself.

Actaea swept furiously back into the classroom. "Mr Snape!" she shouted. "I would have thought you were above letting your cauldron blow up, like an incompetent first year!"

Sirius was grinning madly. "Actually, Professor," said Snape with an evil look at the Marauders. "Black and his friends over there threw something into it. I didn't even have time to see what it was but I think it was a firework."

Sirius' smile disappeared at the speed of light, to be replaced with a look of utter disbelief. "_What_?"

"Well?" asked Actaea dangerously.

"We ... didn't!" stuttered Sirius.

"Excuse me, Professor," put in Snape slimily, "but why would I want to explode my _own_ cauldron? And who else in this room would do something like this? Black's the only one droolingly stupid enough to do such a thing."

'Droolingly stupid' as he supposedly was, Sirius knew better than to burst Snape's mountainous nose in front of Professor Actaea. That would have to wait ...

Actaea considered the Gryffindors a moment before saying, "Empty out your bags."

With a feeling of dread, they did so, fully aware of the dungbombs and fireworks that Peter and Remus were carrying. The expression on Snape and Malfoy's faces when they saw them were ones of absolute delight. Obviously, they hadn't been expecting the Gryffindors to practically hand over the evidence.

Actaea, when she saw them, looked positively livid. Vulture-like, she loomed over them. "Well, Mr Black. It seems that you and your friends have too much time on your hands. We will have to remedy that. Twenty points from Gryffindor and detention for all four of you. Also, don't think you will be going to Hogsmeade this year."

They were completely nonplussed. Had Snape known or had he just been lucky? "Professor--" began Remus.

"Do you want to make it fifty points, Lupin?"

Remus shook his head in disbelief. "No, Professor."

"Then I suggest that _all of you _... _keep _... _quiet_."

Snape and Malfoy were looking more smug than ever. Even Snape's new height, or lack thereof, couldn't detract from the infuriatingly self-satisfied look he was sending at the Gryffindors.

"You will stay behind to arrange your detentions," ordered Actaea. "Mr Snape, hospital wing."

"Yes, Professor." He swept past, smirking.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

That evening, at dinner, Sirius was more manic than ever. "A week's detention!" he exploded. "That slimy, pathetic, disgusting bas--"

"Mr Black!" It was McGonagall, walking past on her way to the teachers' table. "Language!"

Shooting him a disapproving look, she kept going.

Sirius took a deep breath. "Right. We need new tactics," he said, frighteningly calm. "Anyone got any ideas?"

No one did. It seemed that they had underestimated Snape's sliminess. They ate in silence.

After a while Peter sighed. "It looks like Snape's way's quite effective," he said defeatedly. "We're going to have to do bad stuff to _ourselves_ and make it look like they did it."

James and Remus raised their eyebrows. Sirius, on the other hand, looked at Peter approvingly. "Good work, Peter," he said seriously, giving him a congratulatory pat on the arm before digging in again.

Peter looked at James and Remus questioningly. "Er ... thank you ... sir."

"Black!" shouted a voice. It was Snape, now back to full height. "Enjoy your detention! Better start digging out those green robes!"

Sirius' military stoicism broke. With a snarl of rage, he grabbed a fistful of mashed potato, preparing to launch it across the room. Remus grabbed his wrist. "No, Padfoot. Ignore them."

Sirius smashed the mashed potatoes down onto the table with a warning look at Snape that said something like "that'll be your face". With a smirk, Snape went back to his meal.

"Right!" Sirius raged. "I'm going to kill the bas--"

"MR BLACK!" McGonagall was now on her way back from the teachers' table. "I'll hear no more outbursts like that! Five points from Gryffindor!"

Sirius stared momentarily.

A shriek of rage echoed through the Great Hall.

Please review!


	3. The Revenge of the Gryffindors

All Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling, not me.

"REVENGE!" boomed a voice in the Gryffindor common room that night.

"Padfoot ..."

"I shall wreak bloody vengeance on those who have wronged me!"

"_Padfoot_!"

"He will _regret_ this day!"

"SIRIUS!" roared James finally.

Sirius blinked and looked down at James. "Er ... yeah. Sorry, Prongsy," he said, smiling sheepishly. Then his face darkened again and he began making violent mid-air gestures. "But I'm going to _kill_ him. I'm going to _grab_ that oversized nose, tear it off and _ram_ it up Malfoy's--"

"That's not going to win Gryffindor any points," James reminded him loudly.

They were lounging in the common room again, preparing a plan of attack. Or, more accurately, _trying_ to prepare a plan of attack.

"I can't believe how _underhand_ that was!" Remus exclaimed. "I mean, I know they're Slytherins, but that was _way_ below the belt. Two hours gutting toads ..." He shuddered.

"I can well believe it," James grumbled.

"Well, it's like I said," said Peter, shaking his head. "We're just going to have to play them at their own game."

"I really don't want to have to cover myself in potions just to get one up on the snakes," James said doubtfully. "Anyway, if Remus or I tried that ... well, you know what we're like at potions. We'd end up with some irreversible ... affliction ... Argh!" He buried his head in his hands frustratedly and ruffled his hair. "Come on! Why are we in Gryffindor and not Slytherin?"

There was a thoughtful silence.

"Because only losers like Greasy-Locks and Co. get put in there," growled Sirius. "Pathetic little freaks who're anointed Dark Wizards from birth. Underhand little toe-rags who wouldn't know honour if it belted them in the face. Disgusting little--"

"Bravery, chivalry, honour, that sort of stuff ..." Peter interrupted. "We're really not cut out for a fight against a group of weasels who'll stoop to any level to get their way." He looked downcast.

"Exactly. They're playing to their strengths, ie. weaselling points away from Gryffindor, so we have to play to _ours_," James said, looking around.

They waited pointedly.

"Well ... I don't have that part figured out yet," he admitted, "but I'm getting there."

"We just have to do everything by the book," said Remus. "No stooping to Slytherin standards, or lack thereof. It'll be a better victory if we don't have to cheat."

"Now _that's_ a Gryffindor trait," grinned James, gesturing at Remus. "We can _defend_ ourselves and win points properly. We're already in agreement that they can't beat us a Quidditch."

Remus and Peter nodded.

"Okay, but we have to prepare ourselves for anything they throw at us. We need defences!" boomed Sirius, standing up. "We need to know what they're up to in that slimy pit of fiery Hell they call their common room. We need ..." here his eyes took on an inspired look, "to get a man in there."

"Er ... Si?" said Peter, sounding slightly nervous. "We don't even know where their common room is. And we'll undoubtedly need a password. In fact, they'll probably have torture devices in place for any unsuspecting soul who wanders into their domain. They'll hang their broken, tortured bodies on the common room wall ... as a warning." He gulped.

Sirius looked at the other three darkly. "Yeah, I wouldn't put that past that lot." He slapped the table with the palm of his hand. "Well, we're just going to have to brave the depths."

"We can't all four of us fit under my invisibility cloak, you know," James told him. "Three, maybe, but not four."

Peter, who had the unfortunate habit of tripping over the invisibility cloak, thus resulting in many a detention, jumped up. I'll go ... look up counter-curses in the library!" He took off out the portrait hole. "Let me know how the break-in goes!"

And he was gone.

The other three stared after him. "Well," said Remus after a substantial pause, "looks like that's that problem solved."

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

All was quiet in the passage leading to the dungeons. The intimidating darkness swallowed everything whole and the silence smothered everything like cotton-wool. 

Suddenly a loud, bloodcurdling howl, rather like a dog baying at the moon, penetrated the silence, striking terror into the hearts of all who heard it.

"My foot, my foot, my bloody foot!" a voice half squeaked, half whispered.

"Sorry, Rem," muttered another voice. "I can't see."

"Getting close to the full moon, hmmmmm?" asked a third voice. "That noise'll definitely keep people away. Nice one, Moony!"

"What?" There was the sound of someone hopping on the spot. "Oh, yeah ..."

"Shhhhh!" said the second voice, with a distinctly soldier-like air. "We can't risk being found out. There's no telling what the enemy'll do."

"So, where to now?" asked voice no. three. "We don't have a clue where we're going."

"We wait. Obviously it'll be in the dungeons somewhere, and anyone going down to the dungeons has to walk past us."

The voices were silenced by the sudden sound of approaching footsteps. In the gloom, they could just make out the downright frightening face of a Slytherin prefect as he walked past. The disembodied voices followed behind until the prefect stopped before a bit of damp wall. "Grindewald," he said, and the wall slide aside.

The unseen intruders sneaked in behind him into a low-ceilinged underground room. They looked around interestedly. The dark wood and the green tinge from the dim lights gave the room an ominous quality. "No wonder the Slytherins are such a miserable bunch of sadistic gits," whispered Sirius gleefully. "Look where they have to live!"

"Where's Snape?" breathed James.

"There," Remus muttered, pointing to a small group of people a short way away. "Look, you can see the fire reflecting off his obscenely large nose."

Indeed, Snape's nose looked like a rather odd-shaped light bulb, one of the few sources of light in the room.

They tiptoed their way over. Snape, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle sat near a painting depicting a particularly violent scene.

"We'll just have to find it," Malfoy was saying.

"But we'll need a password, won't we?" asked Goyle. "And they'll probably have traps set. You'll be hung by your skivvies from the ceiling ... as a warning." He gulped.

"Don't be idiotic!" snapped Malfoy. "They don't have the brains or the cunning to do something like that. They walked right into our little ploy today ..." his face took on an almost dreamy expression, "and they couldn't have made it any better ..."

The four boys guffawed.

"So," said Snape. "When should we break in? I'll make an invisibility potion. It won't last for more than ten minutes, but it'll be enough time to follow a Gryffindor to their common room and find out the password, so we can go at night."

"Tomorrow night would be best," Malfoy answered. "Gryffindor are playing Ravenclaw on Wednesday, so they'll all probably be getting a fairly early night."

Snape smiled greasily. "Wonderful. We'll go about one in the morning just to be sure."

The Marauders looked at each other, outraged. Sirius, looking half livid, half delighted at the opportunity to hex Snape without him seeing, went for his wand. "No!" hissed Remus, grabbing his wrist. "They'll know we're here!"

Grudgingly, he put it back in his pocket. "Slimy git ... wouldn't touch his skivvies ... grumble ..."

James nudged the other two and motioned towards the exit. Throwing one last contemptuous glance at Snape, Sirius let himself be led to the door. Looking round to check no one was watching, they let themselves out.

They made their way quickly up to Gryffindor Tower with minimal injuries.

"Gobbledegook." 

The portrait hole swung open and they entered their common room. Sirius wasted no time in launching into a tirade about Snape, security measures and broken noses. "We'll have to tell everyone to be on their guard! We're going to have to track Snape and Co., we can take one each. I'll take Snape. Who wants Malfoy?"

"Sirius ..."

"You take Malfoy, Moony, you've got good hearing ..."

"_Sirius_!"

"You and Peter can take Crabbe and Goyle, Jamie. It's not like Crabbe and Goyle are going to be difficult to hear, stomping about like a pair of--"

"SIRIUS!" roared James, again.

"_What_?"

"Well, if we _know_ they're coming ... we can prepare. You know, confirm Goyle's skivvies theory..."

Sirius looked intrigued. "Go on."

"Well, we know when they're coming, right? So if we trap them, we can call Professor McGonagall and next thing we know ... Slytherin are in the negatives!"

"Prongs, my man. You are a genius!"

James nodded affirmatively.

"Only one thing, though," Remus said.

"Which is ...?"

"I refuse ... _refuse _... to allow them to be in our common room in only their skivvies. No...way."

James laughed and Sirius grimaced. "That won't be a problem, mi amigo."

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

"Are all the preparations in place?" asked Sirius.

"Yep, everything seems to be in order," answered Peter.

The four boys stood back to admire their handiwork. Sirius was positively writhing with glee. "Oh, Snapey's going to get it! Slytherin won't know what hit them!"

"How long have we got?" asked James.

"Half and hour," Remus answered, grinning.

Sirius shot across the room and hurled himself into an armchair next to the fire, out of which he abruptly jumped up. "No, I can't sit down ..." He began pacing. "Git ... heh ... this'll be good ... slimy ... mumble ..."

"Prongs?" asked Remus.

"Yeah?"

"Do you still have your camera?"

James eyes lit up and, as quietly as possible, he bounded up to their dormitory to get it. He returned moments later, grinning like a maniac and waving it about. "Proof!"

"Only, we can't plaster them everywhere, because everyone'll know it was us," Peter warned. "McGonagall'll be so annoyed she'll probably dock points from Gryffindor, too."

"Hmmmmm ... we'll find a way to get over that."

Remus nudged James. "What's Padfoot doing?"

Sirius was kneeling before the fire, gazing at the ceiling with a reverent expression on his face. He was rising and lowering his arms slowly.

"Erm, Sirius?"

Nothing, said Sirius.

"Sirius?"

"Shhhhhhhhh!"

"What're you doing?"

"I'm worshipping whichever god of mischief and mayhem is allowing me this chance to completely and utterly humiliate Snapey and Co." He closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply.

The three boys exchanged looks. They were beginning to worry about his sanity somewhat. How someone could go from stoically soldier-like to insanely furious to deliriously happy to his current state of tranquillity and peace in such a short space of time, with almost _no_ change in circumstances, was beyond all of them.

But they knew better than to ask.

"It's quarter to!" hissed James, and they all leapt over to the fire and dove behind armchairs, flattening Sirius in the process. "You're ruining my meditation!" he exclaimed, annoyed.

"Oh, shut up."

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

About twenty minutes later, Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy, Gordon Goyle and Derek Crabbe were all making their way silently to the Fat Lady's portrait. "Right," whispered Snape. "We find the fifth year dorm, leave the 'evidence' and leave." He shot a pointed look at Crabbe and Goyle. "_Quietly_!"

In his hands he held his and Lucius' old wands.

Malfoy smirked. "They're going to be in the negatives when they get caught with our these. _Oh, Professor, my wand was stolen! What will I dooooo_...?"

"Indeed."

They had reached the portrait. "Gobbledegook," said Snape, and the Fat Lady let them in without even opening her eyes.

They crept in, one behind the other, and stood near the doorway. Snape snorted. "It's all red and gold. It's _disgusting_!"

He took a silent step forward, followed by the other three. Suddenly, he felt something loop around his ankles, binding them together. He lost his balance and fell over, only to be flipped upside down and hauled painfully off the ground. He screamed and started flapping like an overgrown bird. Next to him he could hear Malfoy doing the same. Crabbe and Goyle were shouting for instructions, and he could hear laughter and two people shouting "Petrificus Totalus!". And ... no ... he had to be imagining it. _No_! He was sure he could hear the clicking of a camera ...

He roared again and struggled to free himself. Confound it, he couldn't see a thing! It took a moment for him to realise that his robes were now wrapped snugly around his head. And he had green pyjamas with little silver snakes on them on under his robes, too ... he was glad his face was hidden.

The laughter was getting louder and more frantic. He recognised those voices, God knew he heard them often enough. "Black!" he screeched. "Untie me this _instant_! Potter!" He was wrestling with his robes, trying to get them back around his feet, but it was proving extremely difficult.

"Crabbe! Goyle! You'd better not just be standing there!"

He recognised Lupin's voice. "Oh, they're both lying in a full body-bind on the floor, so I don't think they'll be ... be ... " He burst out into helpless laughter again.

Curses! When he got free he was going to--

"WHAT, may I ask, is going on here?!" McGonagall. Snape snarled. That was all he needed. He may as well pack his stuff now.

"Mr Potter, kindly explain why Mr Snape and My Malfoy are hanging from the ceiling, and why Misters Crabbe and Goyle have been body binded!" she snapped. "And WHAT, more to the point, are they doing _in here_?"

"Well, Professor," Potter said, in a wheedling voice. "We had a suspicion that they were going to do something tonight to sabotage the game tomorrow, so we ... er ... took precautions ..."

"Yeah," agreed that accursed idiot, Black. "Look, he's got his wand out and everything. He was going to attack the captain! Malfoy, too. And the reason Crabbe and Goyle are on the floor is that they started towards us when Snapey here went up, so it was self-defence!" He was speaking in a genuine sort of voice. An _I'm your best friend and I would never think of harming any living creature_ voice. When Snape got down he was going to rip out that voice-box with his teeth and -- THUMP.

He and Malfoy hit the floor, still enshrouded in their robes. They both teetered about for a bit, trying to disentangle themselves while McGonagall performed the counter-curse on Crabbe and Goyle. 

She was breathing hard through her nose. "Headmaster," she gritted out. "NOW!"

They had no choice but to go. Snape and Malfoy shot a Death Glare at the Marauders on their way out of the portrait hole.

Snape was last in line. Trying to look dignified, he began to clamber out of the portrait hole. Only, McGonagall had 'forgotten' to untie his ankles, so he tripped up and sprawled all over the floor, half in, half out of the Gryffindor common room, knocking over Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, who tumbled, domino-like, along the hall. This brought fresh peals of laughter from the idiot Gryffindors. They were all going purple from lack of air. To his fury, he even thought he saw the corners of McGonagall's mouth twitch, but she regained her composure and her thunderous expression almost at once.

She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Get. Up."

The heap of cursing Slytherins scrambled to their feet and marched sullenly down the corridor behind McGonagall.

Please review!


	4. The Quidditch Match

All Potter characters are property of J.K. Rowling.

Breakfast in the Great Hall the next day was loud and frantic. Everyone was eagerly anticipating the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match, especially, of course, the involved houses.

"Eat up, team!" called James over the babble at the Gryffindor table. "We'll need plenty of strength today, Ravenclaw's put a strong side together!"

"You know, Prongs, you could probably do with some breakfast yourself," Remus said, looking pointedly at James' gleamingly empty plate.

"Nah ... not hungry," he said shortly. He was continually casting furtive glances at the Slytherin table. "They're going to do something, I know they are ..."

"They might not even be allowed at the match today, Prongs," said Peter reassuringly, piling sausages onto his and James' plates. "In fact, I doubt they will be. McGonagall was _raging_ last night! Eat."

James grudgingly popped a microscopic slice of sausage into his mouth. He looked as though he were trying to chew cotton wool.

"I wonder why Sirius isn't here yet," said Remus, a hint of suspicion in his tone. "You'd think he'd be _dying_ to rub last night in Snape's face."

The three boys looked warily at the Slytherin table, half-expecting to see Sirius sitting there, regaling them with the Disgrace of Snape and Malfoy. There was, however, no sign of him. It came as a relief, therefore, when he swaggered cockily into the Hall a few minutes later, grinning cheerfully at the Slytherins, who scowled darkly back.

"Morning, all," he chirped, loading his plate with food. "I'm starving!"

Suspicious looks were exchanged. None of the other three Marauders knew quite how to phrase the question that was burning at the forefront of their minds. Why, _oh why_, was Sirius so calm and cheerful when there was an extremely high probability that the Slytherins were going to exact their revenge at the match today? What had happened to General Black, with his determination to rid the school of Slytherin slime through the most embarrassing possible means?

They needn't have wondered, however, as it became obvious that General Black was still very much alive and kicking when Sirius pulled out from under his robes, to the utter incredulity of his friends, a periscope.

"_What_ is that?" asked James, who, having completely wizarding heritage, knew little about Muggle objects. "Why do you have it, where did you get it and what are you going to do with it?"

"Relax, Jamesy," Sirius said calmly. "It's a periscope, you can see things higher up with it. I'm going to use it to spy on the Slytherins today. And I ... found it ... somewhere."

Dangerous words coming from him, but probably wisely, no one asked him to elaborate.

"Si ... don't you think it'll be a bit _noticeable_? McGonagall won't let you keep it," Remus pointed out. "She'll just think we're trying to stir up more trouble."

James nodded. "Anyway, they won't be stupid enough to do anything after last night. Especially right under McGonagall's nose." He sounded as though he was trying to convince himself every bit as much as he was trying to convince Sirius.

Sirius glared at the other Marauders. "They ... are ... _Slytherins_!" he hissed, pouring milk onto his toast. "They're _evil_! You know ... minions of the Dark Lord? I thought we had agreed we needed defences? Hmmm? And unless you lot are happy to let them have their wicked ways with us, I'm taking this with me." He jammed a slice of thoroughly soaked toast into his mouth before grimacing and dropping it with a splat under the table.

The thought of Snape having his "wicked way" with any of them was positively traumatising. Choosing not to delve too deeply into this disturbing train of thought, the three boys tucked back in.

"We're going to have to develop some sort of strategy," Sirius told them a few minutes later.

James sighed, exasperated. "Fine. Just don't do anything stupid."

"Hey," answered Sirius, raising his eyebrows in a cocky, come-on-this-is-_me_-we're-talking-about fashion, "caution is my middle name."

"Actually, it's Jeremy," corrected Peter, eliciting badly disguised sniggers from James and Remus.

Sirius scowled. "Shhhhh!" He had a rather large complex about this less-than-masculine middle name, thinking it would ruin his image if it got out.

Still grinning, James stood up. "Team! Let's move!"

The Gryffindor table cheered as the red-clad team departed. Sirius and his periscope followed close behind.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

"We have twenty minutes," announced Sirius, two minutes after having announced that they had half an hour. When Peter pointed this out, Sirius' response was that "time flies when you're having fun".

Neither Peter nor Remus pointed out that watching Sirius pace the length of the room planning offensive moves against the Slytherins, occasionally hitting himself over the head with the periscope and muttering "think ... think ...", was nothing like any sane person's idea of fun.

The supposed 'battle-plan' was this: Sirius would remain in the Gryffindor stands, equipped with the periscope, and watch the Slytherins from afar ("with the eyes of a hawk and the dexterity of a ... an eel"). Remus and Peter were to get as close to the Slytherin stands as possible without attracting attention ("Be as a fly on the wall, men. A _fly on the wall_."), and watch Snape and Malfoy. If they separated, they were to watch one each and send up red sparks to alert the others if anything sneaky seemed to be going on. "And we'll just say it's in support of Gryffindor if anyone asks why!" he concluded blithely, oblivious to the half-pitying, half-bewildered stares he was receiving from Remus and Peter.

Due to the complete lack of a better plan the two had no choice but to agree to their mission. They went down to the common room, followed by Sirius who was loudly pondering the practicalities of camouflage robes, complete with leaves on their heads and mud on their faces. 

Peter groaned. "Why don't we just put on dark coats and hats and sort of ... _sidle in_ there ..." The sarcasm was lost on Sirius, who frowned, obviously despairing of his friend's lack of expertise in planning a military onslaught.

"No! We can't be _obvious_ about it! We'd stick out like--"

"--like _you're_ going to when you whip out what looks like a prehistoric drainpipe, point it into the air and stand gawking at the Slytherins?" asked Remus mildly.

"Well ... I'll take Prongsy's cloak, then."

"If we're the ones trying to get near to Snape and Malfoy, wouldn't _we_ be better off with the cloak?" asked Peter.

"No, because you're going to be in _camouflage_!"

It wasn't until Remus pointed out that camouflage robes tended more towards green than red, adding that the wearing of green robes was the exact situation they were doing all this insane scheming to avoid, that Sirius gave up.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

The crowd roared as the two teams flew out onto the pitch. Timothy MacMillan, an enthusiastic Hufflepuff, was commentating as usual.

Sirius pointed to where they could see Snape, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle standing in the Slytherin stands. "You two get as close to them as you can and watch them," instructed Sirius.

The two boys departed, pushing through the crowd. Sirius, satisfied that the plan was in action, stepped back a bit and held the bottom of the periscope up to his eye. After a few minutes of sniggering as he watched people pick their noses, he focused on Snape and Malfoy. They were at the end closest to the Gryffindors, which piqued his suspicion, and seemed to be casting frequent evil glances at James, who was now zooming toward the Ravenclaw goal with the Quaffle in his hand. Sirius didn't like the look on Snape's face as he watched.

He hoped that Remus and Peter were on the case. He put the periscope down so he could watch the game for a few minutes before returning to his mission. A Bludger shot at James and he only just manage to throw the Quaffle before he had to veer abruptly upwards in a movement that Sirius thought he would probably fall off trying to imitate. The Quaffle sailed past the Ravenclaw keeper and into the goal. The Gryffindor stands went wild, Sirius included. "That's it Prongsy!" he roared, mindless of the fact that there was no way James would hear him.

He was brought out of his short-lived joy by the sight of red sparks shooting up into the air from near the Slytherin stands. Hurriedly, he looked through the periscope for Snape and Malfoy, but he couldn't see them. He pushed his way through the throngs of Gryffindor supporters towards the Slytherins, wand out. He knew he wouldn't be able to see Remus and Peter, but they'd be looking for him, or so he hoped. He looked around. There! Snape and Malfoy were hurrying towards the nearest exit onto the grounds. He followed them at a distance, wondering where on earth Remus and Peter had got to.

He sneaked down the stairs behind Malfoy and Snape, careful to keep far enough back that they didn't suspect anything. Where were Moony and Wormtail?

He kept a few metres distance between himself, Malfoy and Snape. Just as they were coming to the bottom of the stairs, something barrelled into him from above, sending him tumbling down the stairs. He landed, dazed, flat on his back at the bottom. After gathering his bearings, he could feel something struggling beneath him. "BLACK! Will you get _off_!"

With a start, Sirius recognised Snape's voice. "Get up, you cretin!"

Sirius hurriedly rolled off and looked around. Lucius Malfoy lay, apparently unconscious a few feet away, Snape lay where he had been. A quick look at the stairs showed Remus hurrying down them. "Sirius! Are you okay? Where's Peter?"

Sirius scanned the ground around them again. "Peter?"

"Yes! He—oh ..."

"What? What oh?" Sirius was confused, to say the least. Why would he know where Peter was? He'd been with Remus last thing he knew.

"Well, I took the cloak off me so I could stop people bumping into us ... he must have tripped at the top of the stairs."

Sirius groaned. Why? _Why_? At that moment a pained groan sounded nearby. Sirius turned around to see Peter crawling out from under the invisibility cloak. He whipped round, seeing to his relief that Snape was trying to wake up Malfoy, and thrust the cloak at Peter. "Hide it under your robes!"

Peter did so just in time because at that moment, an angry voice sounded from half-way up the stairs. "_What is going on here_?"

Sirius could have screamed. _McGonagall_.

He, Snape and Remus began talking at once. "Enough!" roared McGonagall. They all fell silent.

"Now, Mr Snape. Please tell my why Mr Malfoy is lying unconscious and why Mr Pettigrew looks concussed."

A quick glance in Peter's direction confirmed that he was indeed looking particularly vacant. "Professor, Lucius and I were just heading back to the castle for our detention when Black here leapt on me and knocked Lucius out with that ... thing."

Sirius looked suspiciously at Lucius' prone body. Sure enough, there was the periscope, lying innocently a short distance from his head. He glared at Snape.

"That isn't true, Professor! I ... _tripped_," here he cast a dark look at Peter who was still looking utterly blank, "and _fell_ on Snape."

"Then how do you explain that periscope on the floor over there? What on earth were you doing with one of those?"

"I ..." Sirius faltered, trying to come up with something that wasn't too incriminating, "wanted to see the match better ... yeah ..."

"I'm afraid, Mr Black," said McGonagall curtly, "that I don't believe that."

"But it's true!" Sirius spluttered, looking to Remus for support.

"It is true, Professor," he said earnestly.

McGonagall just looked angrier. "Detention for attacking other students and thirty points for lying about it! For all three of you! I am getting fed up with you lot," she glared at all of them, Snape included, "fighting and brawling. You will serve detention tomorrow with Misters Snape, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle."

Sirius' jaw dropped. Remus looked incredulous. Peter looked blank. "But ... that's ..."

"_That_ is when you will be serving detention," McGononagall snapped. "You will be notified tomorrow where and when it is."

She spun on her heel and levitated Malfoy away, Snape following, looking particularly smug.

"Pete?" gritted out Sirius. "What ... happened?"

Peter looked solemnly at him. "You know what, James?"

Sirius looked questioningly at Remus, who shrugged in reply.

"I think," said Peter, smiling serenly, "that you're a _good_ chaser."

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

"You did _what_?!"

"It wasn't my fault, Prongsy! I had them! They were going to do something! If Peter hadn't fallen--"

"Come on, it wasn't all Peter's fault. It was busy..." Remus interrupted, looking doubtfully at Peter, who was in turn looking doubtfully at a fly on his knee.

"Well...whatever. We're going to get them back for this. Detention with _them_!"

Snape, Sirius thought grimly, was going to pay.

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